


Burn the Evidence

by Tahtienlapsi



Category: Achievement Hunter, Fake AH crew - Fandom
Genre: Arsonist, Bad Medical Care, Chaotic Original Character, Death, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Sibling Relationship, Explosions, Female Jack Pattillo, General Chaos, Immortal Fake AH Crew, Immortal Original Character(s), It's not that bad but it's there, description of violence, minor abuse, pyromaniac
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-12 12:48:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19946422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tahtienlapsi/pseuds/Tahtienlapsi
Summary: There was no way they could just move on from this. There was no way they could not be noticed after this. They had been killed by the Vagabond. And they didn’t stay dead.





	1. Waking Up

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of more of a hobby fic I'm writing as I'm inspired, so we'll see how this goes, yea?

It was the third time this week they had had a gun trained at their head, and Caesin was not having it. They stared up at the barrel, their legs splayed out beneath them at broken angles, blood leaking from the many bullet mounds riddling their body and forming puddles on the ground. They sighed. _Well, it is what it is._

They raised their eyes up to the face of their adversary, eyes alight with fire, and grinned.

_Bang._

Caesin’s eyes snapped open, waking up with a familiar lurch and a searing pain in their chest. It had happened again.

No matter how many times it happened, dying was never a comfortable thing. Neither was coming back. The pain of their heart kick starting and having to wait for feeling to come back to their body was never something they would get used to.

They sighed and brought their hand up to their forehead, wiping a spear of blood off from where there had previously been a bullet wound, but now was just the source of a mild headache. They couldn’t have been out for more than a few hours, but their blood was dried on the pavement. And on their clothes. And just about everywhere else. _That’ll leave a stain._

Caesin would like to believe they were well known in Los Santos; a teenager for hire obsessed with fire who couldn’t be killed. In reality, they were just known as the person for criminals to go to if you wanted evidence destroyed or a message sent. 

It was hard to make a name for yourself when you didn’t do public stunts like, say, the Fake AH Crew. Caesin loved the Fakes. They were a new crew, but boy had they entered the scene with a bang.

It was the kind of love you only had from a far, knowing it was dangerous if you got close. It was more of safety blanket thing for Caesin, really. When they first realized they couldn’t die, finding out there were others was a comfort. But they didn’t kid themselves into believing the Fakes were good people; they weren't an idiot. 

Caesin scaled the wall into their second story apartment window, falling ungracefully onto their bed. Their room smelled heavily of warm vanilla and various incense, masking the smell of weed and cigarette smoke that the rest of the apartment reeked of.

They groaned and peeled off their dirty clothes, throwing them in the… general direction of the laundry basket. And missing. By at lot. It’s fine. Most of their room was strewn with clothes, both dirty and clean; they didn’t know why they even had a laundry basked.

Something banged against their bedroom door. “Caesy!” 

Caesin groaned and pulled a t-shirt on before opening the door. “What?!” Their brother had disappeared from the hallway already, but Caesin knew he heard. They ducked as a hair brush was thrown at them.

Max stood at the end of the hall with a glare on his face. “Stop leaving your shit around.”

Caesin glared right back, knowing that he had fully intended to hit them with the brush, and slammed their door.

Their relationship with Max was… complicated. They liked each other just fine, but their brother had issues with violence and Caesin wasn’t exactly non-confrontational, leading to a lot of fights. They both disagreed with the other’s life choices, but usually stayed out of each other’s business. It was easier that way. 

Caesin got dressed properly, in shorts and a tank top, and made their way out into the kitchen. Max was sitting on the couch, on his phone with a joint in his hand. While Caesin hated the smell, he was always easier to talk to when he was high, so they didn’t bug him about it. A quick search of the cupboards and fridge showed they had no food, besides a few cans of tuna that had definitely been sitting there too long. _Is that a spider web on that can? Probably._

They groaned and trudged over to the jar by the door labeled ‘food money’, full of spare change, mostly useless. Five dollars. That was only enough to go to the corner store and get a snack. Caesin glanced at Max, debating asking him for money, but quickly coming to the conclusion that he probably didn’t have any. They sighed and grabbed their keys, slipping on a pare of shoes that definitely weren't theirs and swinging the door open. “I’ll be back.” Max just hummed in acknowledgement without looking up.

The walk to the store was quick, and thank god because Caesin was pretty sure they’d melt in the Los Santos heat. There were only two other people inside, minus the cashier, and Caesin didn’t spare them a second glance, making a b line to the slurpie machine. With a cold cup of strawberry slush in their hand they headed to the till, intending to buy a corndog and go home. They never made it to the till.

Both of the other people, two men now wearing masks, pulled out guns, one of them firing off a few rounds over the cashier’s head. “Put the money in the bag!”

Caesin’s eyes widened and they ducked behind a rack, hoping the men wouldn’t pay attention to them. Sirens wailed in the distance, the cashier pleading with the men as she filled the bag. Her cries were abruptly cut off with a gun shot.

Caesin heard the bell on the door and let out a breath. They didn’t want to die again today. But they didn’t hear the door close. 

“What are you doing?” One of the men asked, right as Caesin looked up to their right, once again met the the barrel of a gun pointed down at them. The man stood over them wore a skull mask; they couldn’t see his face at all, but the look in his eyes said that no amount of begging would get them out of this.

Four. Four times this week.

The man pulled the trigger and Caesin fell limp to the floor.

Caesin woke up on the floor of the corner store, once again surrounded by their own blood, this time mixed with the red slush from their spilled drink. The sirens were louder now, accompanied by the sound of tires skidding to a stop in front of the store. They must have only been out for a few minutes this time.

Thoughts ran through their head, images of the man that shot them. There was no way. In all their time in this city, all their time in the criminal underworld, they had always managed to avoid _them_. And suddenly, they’d manage to get killed by _him_.

They didn’t bother moving, their body was still numb and they knew they wouldn’t get very far. The police would find them and they’d be checked over by medical personal, then be sent home. Max would yell at them, and they’d move on.

But there was no way they could just move on from this. There was no way they could not be noticed after this. They had been killed by the Vagabond. And they didn’t stay dead.


	2. Sunshine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wait people actually read this? What??

After that, Caesin started hiding their face on jobs. They cut two holes in the hood of an old sweater and sewed a pare of goggles in, pulling it down over their eyes to cover the top half of their face. At first that was all they needed, but as they started getting bigger scale jobs, they started wearing a gas mask to protect their lungs from smoke. Eventually they had to replace the sweater, and that’s when they found their iconic look.

Light green sweater with a yellow sun on the back, black sleeves, patched on black good with goggles sewn in, red gas mask. 

They quickly acquired a public nickname: Sunshine.

Their jobs just got bigger and bigger, from low scale clean ups to getting hired on to a crew to help with a heist. 

It was three years before Caesin encountered the Fake AH crew again.

They had received a call on their work phone. He said he needed an extra hand on a heist, offering them an equal cut of the payout. He hadn’t said who he was, but that was normal, criminals weren’t usually comfortable with giving too much information over the phone; you ever know who might be listening.

Then they found themselves in a penthouse with the Fakes, getting instructions on the plan.

“Alright,” Kingpin, the man Caesin had spoken to on the phone, addressed the room, “here’s what’s gonna happen. Shannan and RimyTim, you’ll be ready with a cargobob.” The two nodded. “BrownMan, you’ll be on the building across the street to provide support.” BrownMan didn’t even look up from his DS. “Mogar and Golden Boy will enter the bank first, pretending to be customers. I’m sure you two can come up with a reasonable story?” The two men grinned at each other. “Next will be Vagabond and Sunshine. You guys go in masks on. Vagabond, guns out. Vagabond and Golden Boy will handle crowd control, while Sunshine and Mogar go to the vault. Sunshine, you blow the vault.” 

Caesin nodded; blowing vaults was one of their specialties.

“Vagabond and Golden Boy will switch places with Mogar and Sunshine to get the cash. Mogar and Sunshine, make a big scare with the crowd before making your get away on a bike, hopefully drawing the attention of the police. Vagabond and Golden Boy, after getting the cash, will come out to where I will be ready with the getaway car. We drive off, Shannan and Rimy Tim pick us up. Brown Man, you’re responsible for your own get away. We all loose our heat and meet up back here.” 

_That was a… surprisingly simple plan. All they had to do was blow the vault then leave._

“Any questions? No? Alright, let’s head out.”

Waiting in the alley with Vagabond was awkward. He was so quiet. Honestly, Caesin was relieved when he muttered a quiet “let’s go.” This is the part they were used to.

When they entered the bank, Caesin didn’t bother to wait around, heading right to the vault. Mogar and Golden Boy pulled out guns, Mogar splitting off to follow Caesin. 

They got straight to work, rigging the values door with explosives. They glanced at Mogar, who was watching the door. “Get back,” they said as ran over to him, hiding just outside the door with their fingers in their ears. The door blew open with a loud thud, the metal creaking. Caesin ran after Mogar back out to the main area, walking straight into a chaos of screams and gun fire.. 

“Hey, assholes,” Mogar yelled, “the vaults open.”

Caesin lobbed a smoke grenade into the middle, Giving Vagabond and Golden Boy the chance to clean out the vault and letting them and Mogar make their escape out a side door as it went off. Caesin jumped on the bike they had stashed there, Mogar getting on behind them. The second he was on, Caesin floored it. 

That was where things got bad.

They did draw the police’s attention, what seemed like the entire force was on their tail. Mogar fired off shots behind them, trying to give them cover fire. The police just didn’t seem to want to give up.

Caesin heard Mogar cry out in pain. “You good back there?!”

“I‘m fuckin peachy!” 

Another cry and Mogar went limp, slumping against Caesin’s back. “Shit,” Caesin muttered. They glanced back at him and hooked one of their arms through his so he didn’t fall off. They sped around a corner, trying to get their bearings. _Fifteenth street. Fifteenth street… Max’s work was on fifteenth street!_

A bullet wizzed by, hitting Caesin in the shoulder. “Shit!” They cried out. They grabbed a grenade out of their pocket and pulled the pin with their teeth, throwing it under a police car. It blew up and flipped over another, slowing them down by a few seconds.

Caesin skidded into an alley, slapping a sticky bomb on the bike. They got almost the entire way down the alley, making a hard turn and falling onto their side and off the bike. The bike went flying back towards where the police cars were stopping, blowing up at the mouth of the alley.

Micheal’s eyes drifted open, the world around him blurry. His arms ached and he noticed he wasn’t wearing a shirt, instead he was wrapped in bandages. He could hear voices coming from somewhere, but it was all still too fuzzy to make out. He tried to sit up, pain exploding in his ribs. The voices hushed.

A man made his way into Micheal’s vision. “Easy there.” He helped Micheal sit up and handed him his glasses. 

Two people came into focus. One, the man in front of him. He was tall with messy red hair that looked like he ran his hand through it too much. He was crouched in front of Micheal, holding a cup of water.

The other one was… a woman? They were really small, an over sized t-shirt and a large armchair making them look even tinier. They had spiky, flaming red/orange hair that was pinned up and out of their face with a bazillion clips. Their arms were covered in red roses, thorns winding up onto their neck.

“How are you feeling?” The man asked, offering Micheal the cup of water.

Micheal looked back to him, taking the glass from him. “Like I was just shot.”

“Five times,” the man corrected. “I’m surprised you survived.”

Micheal blinked, “wait, how long have I been out?”

“A few hours,” the child answered. Wait, that voice… Sunshine??

Micheal stared at them. The size would check out, Sunshine was always known as being small. But he had always assumed they were just short. He noticed a bandage poking out from under their shirt sleeve. “Were you hit?”

They nodded, “in the shoulder and the leg, nothing serious.” They threw the cup in their hand at the other man, “my brother here patched us up pretty good.”

Their brother glared at them, “alright you little shit, your friend’s awake, get outa here.” He stomped out of the room.

Sunshine frowned, “don’t be mea—” they were cut off by being hit in the face with a ball of clothes.

The man handed Michael his jacket and shirt. “Your clothes are dry. Get. Out.”

“Bu—” Sunshine was hit in the face with keys.

“Car’s out front.” 

It became all the more apparent to Micheal how small Sunshine was when they got in the car. It was one of those cars someone got when they wanted to pretend they had a fancy car without having the money to buy an actual fancy car, bright red and low to the ground. They practically sunk into the passenger seat, sitting hunched down with their arms crossed. 

Apparently, Sunshine couldn’t actually drive, so Micheal was behind the wheel. 

Sunshine had pulled their sweater back on, though they didn’t pull the hood up and over their eyes until they were in the elevator going up to the penthouse. At Micheal’s questioning look, they just shrugged.

“What?”

Micheal shook his head and looked away.

When Mogar opened the door to the penthouse, cheers erupted from inside. Caesin was back under the safety of their hood, hiding their face from the rest of the crew. 

Mogar strode in confidently, yelling something Caesin didn’t hear over the others' noice. They trailed in after him, their arms crossed over their chest. It quickly became apparent that the rest of the crew were drunk.

When Kingpin noticed Caesin he grinned. “Ayy, there’s the newbie!” He rushed over to them and clapped them on the shoulder. “You did good today, how bout you stick around? We could use your help on more heists.”


End file.
